


so hard to die - arthur/eames

by pixelatedeyes



Category: Inception (2010), Inception (2010) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Asian Character(s), Bottom Arthur, British, Character Death, Cute, Death, Domestic Fluff, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gay, Gay Character, Gay Male Character, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Suicide, LGBTQ Themes, Love, Love Confessions, Love/Hate, M/M, Mild Smut, Protective Eames (Inception), Romantic Soulmates, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26010529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixelatedeyes/pseuds/pixelatedeyes
Summary: I will kill Eames, Arthur thought. I will kill him exactly the same way he killed me. It will be poetic, it will be beautiful, and most of all, it will be revenge.
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22





	1. he drew me in

Once, a man said, taking his last, shuddering breath, on death's doorstep, "I am not a coward, but I am only so strong. So hard to die." 

Arthur wasn't a poet, or an author, and couldn't manipulate words in any way, shape or form. He wasn't a creative man - that was Cobb's job. He was an extractor, not a poet, but reading this sentence said by a man so close to death that he could hardly speak, it made him wonder. 

Was it so hard to die? Arthur racked his brain, trying to remember the day he had died. It couldn't been weeks, months, years - he didn't know. All the days had blurred into one. 

Is it so hard to die? Arthur thought again. No. It wasn't hard to die. What was hard were the weeks, months, years he had spent alone after it. 

Closing his book, he sat down and stretched his legs. In the first few non-days (it was charitable to call them days - every moment he spent in this body was as disgusting as the next. Days are hours in which you make memories, but in this new life he had been given, all he wanted to do was forget), he had almost enjoyed his life as a ghost, drifting through his old, trivial life, unseen by all the people he had known and loved. He had laughed, unbelieving, when all the people he had been _friends_ with, just stared at him, unseeing, unfeeling. Carrying on without him. 

Even then, Arthur had been a man of principle, not emotion. He hadn't stayed long, after that. All he'd done was walk away. It was a kind of torture, in a way. A way of punishing him for him for his crimes, of which he was sure there had been many. 

That had been so long ago, though, that he hardly remembered it, except for one thing. Ariadne had gone on without him in his life. Unseeing, unfeeling. He had liked her. He liked her smile, and how she was the smartest person he knew, apart from himself. They had kissed, once. But she couldn't see him. 

Back when Arthur was a child, still experiencing life every day, trying to work out how to live properly, he had read in a book that after you die, everything becomes different. The dynamics change, and you change from a player of the game of life to merely an observer. Life will flow past you like a river, never-ending, and you can do nothing but watch it flow.

But there was something else. One of the only things that stuck out from the hazy sea of memories that had been his past life. 

Only his soulmate could see him. 

It was a strangely comforting thought, that even beyond the grave, the one he loved would still be able to spend time with him, talk to him, love him. He didn't believe it, of course. Not then, not now. 

But, maybe, just maybe, there was a part of him that had hoped. 

***

No matter how sad he was, or how far into self-pity his mind was dragged, one thing remained. God, this was _such_ a boring afterlife. 

What was there to do? Once you got past the whole, _oh, what, I'm dead_ , thing, what could you do when you were simply erased from this life? 

Back in the distant world of when he was alive, he always had always enjoyed going for drinks with his friends. Strangely, he had enjoyed his work, too. It had given him a sense of purpose. But here, there was nothing to give him purpose. So he just wandered aimlessly, sometimes exploring places he had always wanted to go when he was alive, but mostly just sleeping. Technically, he didn't need to sleep (or eat or drink), but he liked it. It filled up the non-days. 

Eames. Now, there was a guy he hadn't heard from in a while. And good riddance. Fucking son of a bitch. If he could just find him, he would get his hands around his throat, and squeeze until his eyes popped and his stupid, lifeless body fell to the ground. Where the hell was he? He couldn't believe that after all they'd been through, the knife had been stabbed. Right in the centre of his back. 

Many years had passed since he'd heard from him, and Arthur was surprised he had even thought of him, on this morning. The sun was shining, radiant, the colour of autumn leaves when they had just begun to change. The gentle light reflected off of the puddles that adorned the street outside the pub, where he was currently resting. Everything seemed perfect. Which was why he was surprised that he was thinking of Eames. The light, the day, the feel of the sunlight on his face - it was perfect. Everything Eames was not. 

He was beautiful, which made it even worse. He had drawn Arthur in - with his smug smile and his dry jokes and his way of smiling at Arthur, despite them hating each other. Arthur's heart squeezed remembering the jokes they had shared. His glare had never been able to get through to Eames. That was something he had liked about him. The way he was untouchable, as if he didn't care what the world thought and never had done. 

He had drawn him in - and Arthur got stuck. Which was why it came as such a shock when Eames did what he did. That was why his heart contracted when he thought of the _hatred_ needed for Eames to do what he did. 

Arthur wasn't a poet, but he had some knowledge of how these things worked. 

Which was why, on that beautiful morning, when the rays of light were piercing through the cotton candy clouds in such a perfect way, Arthur vowed revenge. 

He was going to find Eames, and he was going to kill him. And he would kill him in exactly the same way as Eames had killed him. 

Poetic, was it not? 


	2. the killer

_I'm not insane_ , he thought. It's just when you spend all this time alone, you begin to think, ponder, contemplate. All the words that meant his mind was consumed, all day and all night, with the question of how, just how Eames could do that to him. 

Arthur had been sitting in the place which he had once called "home", a faraway term he now used loosely, since he changed residences every few days to avoid detection. 

Now, where the hell was Eames? Problem was, as soon as the _thing_ happened, he'd gone completely off the grid. Probably on the run from the law.

Strange thing was, Eames had always chased the loneliness away with his snarky comments and his way of looking at Arthur, as if in a way he could not believe his stupidity, but that was what he liked about him. That he wasn't like the others. Hatred began to seep through this fingers as he sat, tensed, squeezing the drink in his hands as his knuckled turned white.

He hated him. That much was sure. 

_Never again_ , he thought as the alcohol slowly took hold of his system. _Never again will he draw me in._

He jolted awake. The sun was already up, and the new owners of this house were going to come back soon. He had to get moving.

As he neared the door, he halted and took a long, lingering look around the room he had spent so many nights alone at this house. He was sure he'd never see it again, but a certain nostalgia kept him from leaving without a certain pang in his heart. Why had he chosen to come back here? Maybe it was a longing, a longing for the past life, a way to drown the loneliness he now felt by remembering the nights he used to spend here in love, with others like him. 

He closed the door. No use dwelling on the past. Especially when it was never, absolutely never coming back. 

***

He couldn't drown his sorrow and anger in drink anymore. He had to do something about it. He had to find Eames. And soon. 

Question was, how could he start? He couldn't talk to anyone. Arthur was dead. So he had to do some research on his own. 

Work. That was the best place to start. 

As he turned the corner to the place where he had spent the last ten years of his life, the memories began to flood back. 

_"Fuck you, Eames. Honestly. If I'm going to get anything done, I'm going to have to do it on my own," Arthur grumbled, turning to face Eames as he knocked all his papers to the floor. "You're like a cat."_

_"Because I'm cute as hell?" Eames grinned, adjusting his suit jacket and running his fingers through his oiled hair. "Admit it, Arthur. You think I'm cute."_

_Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes. "No, because I think you're annoying as hell and need to get out of my office. Right this second."_

_"Will you pet me first?" Eames grinned at Arthur, and Arthur forgot himself for a second and smiled back._

_"Go on, get out, you hopeless feline." Arthur messed up Eames' gelled hair as he let out a yell of protest. Arthur knew he spent ages every morning getting every hair to be perfect._

_"You messed up my hair!" Eames whined._

_"No, I improved it." Arthur smiled at him, and Eames couldn't help but smile back. Even then, the two of them didn't have the energy to truly hate each other. It was like an act they put up in front of Cobb every morning._

_"You're lucky you're cute. Otherwise I wouldn't pounded you years ago," he whined._

_Arthur glared at Eames. "If you think flirting with me will make me let you stay here, then boy, are you mistaken."_

_Eames got up to leave. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm not flirting. I'm just_ saying. _You're cute."_

_Arthur smiled. "Shut up, Mr Eames."_

How? How could Eames kill him, after everything they'd been through? Admittedly, it wasn't much, but he really thought he liked him. That they'd been _friends_. 

Apparently not. Apparently he didn't know what the word meant, and never had done.

And maybe, that was just as well. 

He decided to go see Cobb. He vaguely remembered where he lived. He would've preferred some specificity, but it didn't matter. It wasn't like Cobb could see him, anyway. 

Sitting in the back of an old couple's car, he tried to imagine that the empty glances of the citizens aimed in his direction were for him. He wished they could see him, and not just the empty space that he seemed to occupy. 

Maybe he _was_ stupid. Maybe he never occupied any space at all. Maybe he was dreaming! But no. He knew from empty, lifeless days of rolling his totem, a red loaded die, that he was utterly awake. And that he was living in hell. 

But any life without Eames was bound to be heaven. Which was why he was going to take care of that problem. Once Eames was gone from his life, once his _killer_ was gone, he would finally be at peace. He would finally be happy. 

He would finally be free. 

Two hours later, he was sitting in Cobb's room, watching him absentmindedly spinning his totem. He had gone through his paperwork, trying to figure out what Cobb knew about Eames. He had gone through his phone, as well. Nothing. It was his fault, of course. He was the one who had suggested they keep a low profile after their last mission hadn't gone completely to plan.

"COBB. COME ON. YOU MUST KNOW WHERE EAMES IS." Cobb didn't turn around. He hadn't heard him. Arthur was just a shell of his former self. 

Arthur nearly tore his hair out in frustration. He had been there for an hour, and still he had found out nothing, except that Cobb was a sad, sad man. And he knew that already. 

"Fuck it," he muttered to himself. He got up to leave, when suddenly, Cobb's phone rang. 

"Hello?" his tired voice answered. 

There was a short silence in which Arthur didn't hear the opposite end of the phone call. 

"Yeah, well, I miss him too, Eames. But nothing to be done about that. It was an accident. A horrible accident." 

Anger flared up in Arthur's chest. An accident? No, it wasn't a bloody accident! Eames had killed him! 

But then the next sentence caught Arthur's attention. 

"You're in Mombasa? Okay. You can stay there until we can get another job. Just lie low for a while, okay?"

Mombasa. So that's where Eames was. 


	3. arthur?

The plane ride was long and uneventful, but all Arthur processed from the elongated hours was how strange it was to finally leave the place that for so long, he had called home. It all seemed so trivial now - a lifetime wasted, gone down the drain. All that mattered now was surviving, as well he could. He couldn't call it living. Living was enjoyable, eventful. He had known, once. Back when he had cared. 

He wandered the aisle of the plane aimlessly, not caring about the sudden turbulence and the seat-belt sign that gently glowed green above the obedient passengers heads. Sometimes, the thought came to his head that he could jump from the plane, and probably survive. But he shook the thought from his head. He was on a mission. 

Lazily, he poured himself a glass of wine as the plane came in to land. He sipped, sitting cross legged on the floor, watching the passengers sit down and lean back in their chairs. He wondered what pointless lives they were living at the moment. Not that he could talk - he wasn't even living, and still, it was pointless.

No. It wasn't pointless. There was a point to his lifeless existence, and he was in Mombasa. Well, there would be a point. Once he was eliminated. 

The truth was, Arthur knew exactly where to find Eames in Mombasa. He had a small apartment just on the edge, nearby a bar, which he would always tell Arthur, was "the only reason he ever bloody bothered to come here". Arthur nearly smiled at the memory, but then caught himself. Never again. 

_"Hey. Arthur. Look. It's chucking it down with rain, you just missed the last bus, and you look bloody miserable. Please,_ please _let go of your pride for one moment and come and stay at my flat." Eames stared at Arthur, a small smiling tugging at his lips, trying to hide it from Arthur as he stared at him, dripping wet from the pouring rain._

_A frown creased Arthur's face like crumbled cardboard as he glared at Eames, perfectly dry under an umbrella. Arthur's suit clung to him, and when he tried to hide his shivers from Eames. He had just stared as Eames chased Arthur as Arthur had failed to catch the last bus. It was a ridiculous show._

_"After today, I don't think I have any room for pride left." Eames smiled hopefully. "But I can't come to your apartment. That's overstepping an invisible line."_

_"It's called a flat, not an apartment." Unconsciously, a smile spread across Arthur's face, but then he composed himself._

_Eames sighed, then spoke again. "Look, Arthur. This isn't a plan to get you alone so that I can attack you." His eyebrow arched. "But... face it. What are you going to do at this time of night? Sleep in the bus shelter?"_

_Arthur just glared at him. "Beats staying at your apartment."_

_Eames just grinned. He knew he'd won. "Come on. I'll take you there. I can show you a new dream I'm working on."_

Arthur smiled, as he sipped his wine. It was bittersweet, the taste of betrayal. That was a good dream Eames had shown him. Absolutely crazy. Eames was a creative genius, and he could make even the most unbelievable things seem real. Like the possibility of there being a friendship between Arthur and him. But, the dream... it was funny, crazy, and absolutely terrible. A see-through attempt to cheer Arthur up after the horrific day he'd just had. Eames was always trying to cheer him up, despite their friendship basically consisting of scowls and snarky comments. 

A jolt shot through Arthur's "body" as the plane landed. But since Arthur didn't feel the need to get up from his seat on the floor anytime soon, he warily watched the people filter out of the plane, grabbing their suitcases and walking through Arthur as he sat there, a bitter smile decorating his delicate features. 

Slowly, he rose from the ground, and stared out the window as the familiar landscape of Mombasa blinded him with sunlight. Of course Cobb had to pick the rainiest month to visit Kenya for work last time they were here - leading to a humiliating situation with Eames. 

Since he had no baggage to reclaim, he just went out of the airport gates, breathing the air, heavy with exhaust fumes. The memories flooded back of the day when Eames took Arthur back to his apartment. Arthur had fallen asleep soon after Eames had made his some tea, and as he woke up, he found himself bundled in a duvet and lying in Eames' bed while Eames slept on the floor. Arthur remembered smiling at his sleeping form, then, careful not to wake him, left the house. 

Arthur wandered the winding alleys, humming to himself. Sitting on the plane, he had come up with a plan. It wasn't a very good plan, admittedly - but it was something. He would find Eames. He would watch Eames, live in his "flat", as he called it for a while with him, learn his habits, until he could predict everything he would do. And then, he would kill him. He would poison him, exactly the way Eames did to him.

He remembered the day so clearly, every day new details designed to torture him sticking out in his head. 

He had gone to Eames' flat, back in England, after a long day. Eames went to make him some wine, his favourite. They had toasted. "To the future". Ha! Funny joke, since there wasn't going to be any future, not for Arthur, anyway. Eames had known that. And yet, yet he had the cruelty, the _audacity_ to say that to him. To dangle a beautiful future right in front of his nose, and then yank it away in a split second, after Arthur took a sip, and collapsed. 

The last thing he saw was Eames' face, him yelling, begging Arthur to stay alive. But it didn't matter. What did it matter, after such a future was taken away from him? When Eames _stole_ it, and yet still pretended that there was something left to salvage? How could he think, that after what he'd done, Arthur wouldn't spend every second after his death cursing Eames' name, hatred oozing through every pore of Arthur's skin, until it completely intoxicated him, overwhelmed him, and hatched this scheme. 

Revenge. Just, if there was one thing this waste of a life had to offer anymore, that had to be it. 

***

Eames' apartment was exactly where it had always been. It was tucked away, on the edge of an alleyway, just shy of peeping out onto the busy streets of Mombasa. He remembered every step he had taken here in the pouring rain, Eames' dark form just visible in the ethereal glow of the streetlamps. Arthur remembered thinking he looked like an angel, maybe light and dark at the same time. Good and evil. Sun and moon. Love and hatred. 

Arthur turned around the corner, and the block of flats stood there, unimposing as before. He entered the door and walk down the corridor, the lights dark and his footsteps echoing. The darkness was thick and murky. There was no end to it, no end to the darkness inside Arthur either. 

The light from the lift penetrated the darkness, almost as if the light was _eating_ the dark. The lift creaked as Arthur rode it, remembering the time when Eames and him were squeezed up together, Eames complaining about the rain getting on his brand new suit. It was a distant memory, and an unwelcome one at that. He didn't need any distractions. 

The doors creaked open and Arthur walked out, finding the correct door in the gloom. He could've found it with his eyes closed. 

Arthur took a deep breath, and opened the door. 

Eames was sitting at his table. He looked up as Arthur walked in. Shock registered, then hurt. 

"Arthur?" 

That's the last thing Arthur remembered before he blacked out. 


	4. soulmates

When he came to, the first thing he saw was Eames sitting at his dining table, drinking from a bottle of wine. He looked absolutely exhausted, and Arthur felt a twang of pity, before extinguishing it. 

Arthur sat up so hard that all the blood came rushing to his head and he nearly passed out again. Only one thought stayed in his puzzled mind: _what the fuck was going on?_

Eames heard the noise, and his sleep-deprived eyes met Arthur's from across the room. 

"Oh, look who's up!" He snorted. Arthur momentarily wondered how drunk Eames was. "So, spill the beans." 

"What?" Arthur's brain still felt like cotton wool, and as he leaned back, he groaned as a sharp pain shot through his body. 

"I thought you were dead." Eames glared at him. "But it seems not." 

"I was. I am." Anger suddenly registered, hot and sharp. "You would know all about that, wouldn't you?" 

Arthur thought he saw hurt on Eames' face, but then as quickly as it came, it disappeared. 

"Wha- Arthur! I didn't - I never- You have to understand -" 

Arthur cut him off. "Spare me the pity whining. Point is, you killed me. I'm dead. You shouldn't be able to see me. Care to explain to me what that's about?"

Eames suddenly grabbed a fistful of Arthur's jacket and pressed him up against his crumbling walls. "You think I know?! What the hell is going on?" He dropped Arthur, and he lay on the floor, rubbing his head. He looked up at him, his eyes blazing. 

Arthur started to speak, but then Eames interrupted him. "You know what, I don't care. I assume what's going on is that Cobb is playing some trick on me. That would be it. He's probably still mad about our last extraction not going to plan, and, and-" He trailed off. "Fuck, Arthur. How are you alive?" 

"I'm not alive. I'll prove it to you, even!" 

Eames got up, then helped Arthur up. "Look, I've already checked that I'm not dreaming. So, that leaved two options. Either you're telling the truth, which, come on, is very unlikely, or I'm drunk. Very, very drunk. There's always the option that you never actually died, and this was one of those miraculous circumstances." 

Arthur sighed. "Are you even listening to me? I said, I can prove it to you!" 

A snort. "Fine." 

"Fine, what?" 

"Fine, prove it to me." 

"I need to go to the library first." 

"What for?" 

"Just take me to the bloody library, Eames." 

Eames let a smile slide over his features. "I see death hasn't changed you one bit, Arthur." 

Arthur smiled back. "Well, you know how it is." 

"Come on, let's go to the library." 

Outside, on the busy streets on Mombasa, Eames turned to look at Arthur. 

"So. Prove it to me." 

Arthur sighed. "Fine." 

Arthur walked up to a man, who was selling fruit. "Good afternoon, sir, I was wondering if I could buy-" He trailed off. The man wasn't looking at him, couldn't see him, either. He had witnessed this exact scene many times, and it still stung as hard as the first time it had happened to him. It hurt, that he was simply erased from this world. And in that moment, he would've done anything, anything, for this to stop. 

He turned around, and Eames was staring at him. "Holy shit," he whispered. "Do that again." 

Arthur walked up to a man, and tapped him on the shoulder. "Excuse me, sir-" 

"Who did that?" The man said, in a language Arthur had once known. He turned a slow 360, and grabbed a man who was behind him. "Was that you?" 

Arthur stood there, and tapped him on the shoulder again. The man growled under his breath, and then sped-walked away. 

"Arthur." Eames' voice was merely a whisper. "How can I see you if no one else can?" He collected himself. "I mean, I need more proof." 

"Later. At the library." Arthur smiled. "You know, for the longest time, I thought I was dreaming. Then, I thought I was crazy. But sometimes it seems like the world is the one that's crazy, you know?" 

"Are you kidding? You're absolutely crazy, you know that?"

A frown creased Arthur's face. " _What?_ " 

"Okay, okay, hear me out. If I was dead, and no one could hear me, no one could see me, I would be wreaking havoc right now! I would be turning the world upside down! God, Arthur, I hope you don't take this personally, but you are so _boring_."

"Thanks. I'll be sure not to take that personally." 

Eames laughed, a small, barking laugh. "Come on. I'll show you something cool." 

Heads were turning in their direction. People were curious as to who Eames was talking to. Arthur lowered his voice. 

"Eames, people are staring." 

"Yeah, about that. Care to explain how no one else can see you, but I can? Am I going insane?" 

Arthur punched him. "You've always been insane. If it helps, I'm sure you're as sane as you've always been." 

Eames laughed, then groaned, clutching his arm. "For a dead guy, you can really punch." He paused, staring at Arthur. "Can I have a moment?" 

Arthur smiled. "Sure." 

Eames turned, then threw up. "Shit. I'm fucking insane."

"Are you quite finished?" Arthur grinned. 

Eames grinned back. "Delayed reaction." 

As they walked to the library in silence, Arthur kept thinking about Eames. He was acting as if nothing had ever happened between them, as if Eames hadn't killed him. The sick thing was, Arthur was being drawn in again. Eames was like a well full of dry jokes, smiles, and acceptance. Arthur had fallen in that well once. Never again. 

He was standing over that well again. In the course of the hour they had been together, Arthur had already forgotten what it was he had been there to do. But now he remembered. It was just a matter of time. The plan hadn't changed. 

Time. He had thought he had had all the time in the world to carry through with this plan. But suddenly, everything had changed. Eames could see him. Eames could feel him. And what Eames had done to him was forever hanging over him. 

Now, he didn't have all the time in the world anymore. The stakes had risen. Now, it was a race. A race to kill Eames before his feelings caught up to him. 

It suddenly occurred to him, that when he was still alive, that must've been exactly what Eames was doing. 

Even better, he noted grimly. His revenge would be poetic. 

"Arthur," Eames whispered. "That man over there. Knock his stall over." 

"Are you insane?" Arthur asked, incredulous. 

"Do it! Take some fruit, too. Start throwing it. It'll be fun!" 

"Eames, yours and my ideas of fun differ dramatically." He sighed. "Oh, what the hell. It's not like they can do anything to me."

Eames stood, aside, smirking as Arthur walked up to the man at the stall. He grabbed an apple, and Eames burst out laughing as the man at the stall started shouting as an apple started to float in mid-air. The man scrambled, getting down on his knees, jumping on top of the table, running after the apple that Arthur then threw to Eames. The man was cursing in another language, then his eyes suddenly locked on Eames. 

"Fuck," Eames muttered, then threw the apple at the man's head as he fell to the floor. He looked around for Arthur. Where the hell was he?

"ARTHUR!" No, where was he? "Arthur!"

"I'm here, I'm here, don't worry. Come on, let's get out of here." The man had spotted them, and now had a bunch of friends shouting. 

"He's got a gun!" Arthur shouted. "What have you got us into?" 

Eames laughed. "So? So do I. Live a little, Arthur." 

Arthur stopped. "Say that again." 

"So do I?" 

"No, what you said last." 

The men were closing in. "Live a little?" His face dropped as he realised. "Arthur, I'm sorry-" 

Arthur burst out laughing. "That is the funniest fucking thing anyone has said since I first ended up like this. God, 'live' a little!"

"Okay, it's funny, but can we like, run?" 

"Alright, alright. It's not like I can die though." 

"No, but I can!" 

Luckily, the crowd gave them enough of a distraction to escape safely and squeeze quickly down an alleyway. They found their way towards the library, still giggling. 

"Okay, what do you need in here?" Eames asked. "It's been years since I even set foot inside a library." 

"You can wait outside." Arthur dismissed Eames with a wave of a hand. 

"Uh, nope." 

"What, because some me are pissed some someone stealing their apples? I'm sure they've forgotten all about it-" 

"No, not because of that." 

"Why, then?" 

Eames paused trying to find the right words. "Because, if this is a dream, then you leaving will wake me up And I've already lost you once. I can't lose you again. If this is a dream, I never want to wake up." 

Arthur nearly blushed, then stopped himself. "Mr Eames, you can come with me. But with all due respect, that was the worst thing you've ever said to me." 

Eames grinned. "Admit it. You loved it." 

"I most certainly did not." 

"Come on, let's get this over with." 

The library in Mombasa was exactly as Arthur remembered it - modest, cramped, but utterly overflowing with books on every shelf. He turned in a small circle, taking it in. It was a sight for sore eyes. 

Arthur had loved books, once, in the long ago time when he had cared. It was like an escape from reality. But these days, he had his own thoughts to escape to. Books had lost their power over him. 

"I'm never going to find what I'm looking for in here," he whispered, mostly to himself. 

"I can ask the librarian if you want-"

"No." Arthur cut him off. He wasn't going to be taking any favours from Eames. "No, it's okay. I'll find it." 

Arthur began to browse some of the shelves, looking for the book he had read about mythology as a kid. He couldn't remember the name of it, which was a problem.

After about half an hour of browsing, Arthur still hadn't found it. He wanted to tear out his hair in frustration. "Goddamn it!" He cursed under his breath. 

"You alright?" Eames said, appearing behind him. 

"Yeah, I'm getting close though." He picked up a book on the edge of the shelf, titled "Soulmates". 

"This might be it, actually," Arthur said. "I'm going to go read this, okay?" 

"Fine." Eames groaned. "Reading. How boring can you get?"

Arthur raised his fist threateningly, then sat down to read. Most of the stuff he had known, like how soulmates don't always, and mostly don't meet in their lifetimes, but everyone has a soulmate. But there was one thing he was looking for. 

"Often the love of soulmates can extend even after death. Once an individual dies, if they didn't find they're soulmate during their life, they will enter a state between life and death, often nicknamed 'Limbo'. Their soulmate is the only one that can see them. The only way they can escape from Limbo is if they find their soulmate and fall in love with them. Only then will they achieve a more permanent state of death." 

Arthur's breath hitched in his throat. He started hyperventilating. _Fuck._

Arthur looked up to where Eames was sitting, stroking the librarian's cat. He looked so vulnerable. He could've killed him, and if he hadn't read what he'd just read, he would've. 

_Well,_ he thought. _This was going to be interesting._


	5. graveyard

When Arthur woke up, he was lying on Eames' bed, bundled up in his duvet, staring at Eames, who was lying on the floor. Deja vu suddenly washed over him, and he was reminded of the time it had rained so much had Eames had invited Arthur to his house to stay the night. It was so strong that he wondered whether it was a dream, and it was still that rainy night in Mombasa. But here was Eames, looking like a sleep cat, curled up in his blankets, and Arthur knew it wasn't a dream. 

How, though? How did he know? He could just as easily check with his totem. 

But, he just _knew._ After every dream, he always got a feeling of peace. Even after a nightmare, the relief was immense. But now, he was troubled. _Eames._ God. 

After the trip to the library yesterday, Eames had smiled at him, said "ready to go?". Arthur had just nodded. He couldn't tell him about what he had learned. It was his. 

But, still. There was Eames, on the floor, his pale skin so vulnerable and pearly. He could have killed him. He _could've._ But he didn't. Because he was a coward. 

No. He wasn't a coward. Something was stopping him. And he would've been lying if he said it hadn't had anything to do with what he learned yesterday. 

Eames' eyelashes began to flutter, caught in some dreamlike reality. He began to stir, and Arthur turned, pretending to be asleep. 

"Morning," Eames groaned. "So, I've had some time to think about what you've told me. My brain is choosing to reject it."

Arthur sat up, then thought better of it and lied down again. "Shit, you think it was easy for me?" 

Eames snorted. "Obviously. Because you're lying to me. Let's go see Saito." 

"Saito? What about Cobb?" 

"No. Not Cobb." 

A smile tugged at Arthur's lips. "You two have a fight?" 

Eames glared at him. "Something like that. Make me some coffee, would you?" 

Arthur threw a pillow at him. "Do it yourself, you lazy git."

A prehistoric noise sounded from the mess of covers lying on the floor. Eames was getting up. 

"I forgot how much of a grump you are in the mornings," Arthur giggled. 

"Shut up, dead boy." 

As Eames got up to make himself some coffee, Arthur rolled over and went back to sleep. 

"WAKE UUUUUUP!" 

Arthur screamed. "Fuck off, Eames! I'm sleeping!"

"Hmmmf. And _I'm_ the grump."

"Eames, you're the one screaming in my ear. Surely you can cut me some slack." 

"You know me, darling. I don't cut anyone any slack."

Arthur groaned. " _Please_ don't call me darling."

Eames grinned. "Okay, darling." Arthur just gave him the finger. 

"Anyway, grumpy-pants, while you were sleeping, I did a quick snoop through the death records, and it appears you're actually dead. Shock, horror. However-" Eames kept talking as Arthur tried to interrupt him. "Now, of course that isn't enough proof for me. God, how am I so calm?" Eames massaged his temples. "So, today, we are going to back home and visit your grave. And we're going to dig you up." 

Arthur's mouth hung open. In all the time he had been dead, it had never once occurred to him to go and do that. 

"Eames, you are a crazy genius."

Eames smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. 

"I know."

Three hours later, they were waiting to board a plane back to the USA, where Arthur had died. Arthur had so many questions, many of which started with why: _why do you care if I'm dead? Couldn't you just kill me again? Why do you even care about me?_ And most importantly: how could he just act as if nothing had happened between them? 

"Eames?" he whispered. Eames turned his head, and so as to not look strange, talking to himself, asked, "Yes?"

He wanted to ask. He wanted to know, _why did you kill me?_ But instead, all that came out was, "Do you remember where my grave is?" 

Eames frowned. "Of course I do," he muttered. 

"Eames?" Arthur asked again. 

"Yeah?" 

"Why are you so serious? It's worrying me." 

Eames sighed. "It's just- just. I don't know, okay? It's not easy to accept this shit. I want to. I want to believe that you're alive. I can't tell you how many times after your death I wished that you were still alive. And now that it's happened, I don't know what to do? I must be dreaming. It's the only explanation." 

They were silent for a while. Then Arthur spoke. "After I died, I thought I was dreaming, too. You have no idea how painful it was for me, to visit my friends, and them not being able to know me. I know it's hard for you, but I'm the one who's dead."

Eames looked at Arthur, but Arthur stared at the ground. 

"I can't imagine what it must've been like," he said quietly. 

"Eames," Arthur said quietly. "Did you kill me?" 

The question was a different one than he would've asked a day ago. Back then, he was sure. But now...

Eames looked up. His eyes met Arthur's. His mouth opened to answer. 

"Arthur-" 

"Next, please!" The attendant at security smiled a tight-lipped smile at the man talking to himself. She sure met a lot of lunatics in her job. 

She took Eames' passport, checked it over, then let him through. Arthur followed through. She didn't even glance at him. Eames, disbelieving, doubled back. 

"Hey!" She turned around. "Aren't you going to check him?" 

Her polite smile grew even more stretched. There was no one there. 

"Who?" 

Eames frowned. "Nevermind." 

There were no spare spaces on the plane. Eames smiled a disturbed little grin at Arthur. "Where are you going to sit?" 

Arthur grinned back. "I've done this before. Don't worry." 

"No, seriously. What are you going to do?" 

"Sit in the aisle, of course!" 

Eames smiled. "No." 

"No?" 

"That's unsafe." 

"I'm dead, Eames. No room for safety." 

"Sit on my lap. I'll be your seat-belt." 

Arthur looked at him, disturbed. "Fuck off. No." 

"Yes." 

Eames looked at him, sitting crossed legged on the floor. 

"That's so undignified!" 

"What, and sitting on your lap isn't?" 

"Come on!" 

Arthur muttered under his breath. "I don't know how you convinced me into this." 

And that's how Arthur ended up sitting on Eames' lap for the entire plane journey. 

***

"Okay, let's go to my grave. You're sure you remember where it is?"

"Shut up, Arthur," Eames muttered. 

"Eames!"

"Yes, I remember where it is. I wept beautiful pearly tears onto it. You happy?" 

Arthur snickered. "I wouldn't call your tears beautiful. Or pearly." Arthur started. "Wait, so whenever I felt a shiver down my spine, that was you crying on my grave?" 

"Nah, that was me jumping on your grave." Arthur glared at Eames. "Sorry. Dark humour." He couldn't help but grin. 

They found their way to the cemetery just as it was getting dark. The sun was setting, painting the sky a beautiful shade of crimson. A lot of people would describe the sky as blood-red, but it was more fiery, more powerful, radiant - blood was weak, washed out. The sun was power. And that night, Arthur felt invincible. 

"Alright, let's get this over with." Eames shivered beside Arthur, his hands tucked away in his pockets. Arthur snickered. 

"You're not scared, are you?" 

Eames laughed, his breath forming white clouds in the cold air. "Let me think. We're going to a cemetery, in the dark, to dig up a body. Am I scared? No, not at all." 

"I would've thought you'd have been in worse situations that this, before," Arthur said, his footsteps echoing loudly through the cemetery. An old man nodded at Eames, and Arthur turned away. 

"Let's get away from that man," Arthur muttered. "He's giving me the creeps." 

"Now look who's scared," Eames smiled, but pulled Arthur away from him anyway. 

"Hold my hand?" Eames said, quietly. 

"Screw you," Arthur said, but turned away, smiling. 

The grave was where it had always been. Modest, unimposing. _Arthur Darling. Greatly missed. 1974-1998._

"Alright," Arthur rubbed his hands together. "It was your idea. Go ahead." 

"Oh no you don't! You're not just leaving me to dig up a dead body in the night! What about... consequences?"

Arthur smirked. "Oh, get on with it."

Eames took out a shovel from the inside of his coat. Arthur stared at him in wonder. "It's called preparation, Arthur." Eames threw the shovel to Arthur. "Now, dig." 

It took roughly half an hour to finally hit wood. They both stared into the hole. "It appears we didn't think this through," Eames said. 

"No shit, Sherlock," Arthur replied. 

"Go on, jump in there."

"No way! You're the one who needs the proof. I don't want to see my own body!" 

"Oh, grow a pair," Eames mumbled. "Fine." 

In the end, they both jumped in. "Let's break it." 

"I'm not breaking my coffin!" 

"Oh, come on! It's like like it was mahogany or anything. Besides, the weight of the dirt would have nearly broken it, too," Eames protested. 

"Fine! But don't say I didn't warn you!" 

Eames took the shovel, and smashed it through the lid of the coffin. It took several more hits before they were able to pry it loose. Eames opened it. 

"Ohhhh," Arthur sighed. It was a strange yearning, and the shock was still so large, despite having known the truth for so long. He was dead. His body was decomposing right here. He couldn't have been dead long, too because half his face was still recognizably Arthur. Lean, angular, handsome Arthur. And as Eames stared at him, so many emotions swept over him. His heart squeezed. 

He threw up, for the second time. Tears stung his eyes. Eames had never quite believed it, until that moment. 

Arthur stared at him, worry adorning his features. And that's when he hugged him. 

"Eames. It's okay. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I'll never go anywhere ever again." 

Everything in the world seemed to fade away as he held Eames, crying beautiful, pearly tears. The fucked up thing was, he didn't care whether Eames had killed him. All he cared about was that Eames was in pain. Eames was crying. And in that moment, he would've done anything, anything to make Eames okay again. 


	6. Cobb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey dudes! Sasha here. Hope you're enjoying the story so far. Thanks for reading! Please leave some feedback if possible, I would love to hear it!  
> This one has a trigger warning:   
> s*icide mention  
> Have a great rest of your day!

Arthur tried to hide a smile as Eames' facial expression when Arthur told him he had no place to stay floated to his mind. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Eames staring at him, a strange expression overcome his face. Arthur turned around, a shy smile playing on his features. 

"What?" Arthur smiled at Eames' shocked expression. 

"Nothing." Eames turned away, then looked back at Arthur. "Just can't believe you're here, is all."

Arthur felt strangely smiley. "Well, I am. And have been for a while." Arthur took in Eames' tired eyes. "You okay?" 

"Just," Eames paused, then took a deep breath. "Just. I can't believe you're here, that's all. I missed you, every single day since you were gone. Hell, I even miss you right now. I can't believe you're really here. God gave me another chance to see you, and here I am, spending it disbelieving. I just missed you." 

Arthur could not hide his skepticism. "You believe in God?" 

Eames just looked at Arthur. "Come on. I don't know, Arthur. You expect me to know? I do believe in Something, though." 

"Something," Arthur repeated, a puzzled expression settling on his face. How could he explain it? How could he not believe in a higher power? Here was another question. Did he believe in soulmates? 

"Do you believe in soulmates?" Arthur suddenly asked. 

A small smile spread over Eames' face. A faint blush had settled on his face. "Why the question?"

Arthur grinned. "Nothing. But curious." The thought suddenly came to his head that Eames looked adorable when he was bashful. He pushed it away. 

Eames smiled again, trying to hide it with his hand. "To answer your question, yes." 

"Really?" This surprised Arthur, to say the least. He hadn't believed in soulmates, until he'd read that book. He wasn't sure he did, even now. 

"Yeah." He paused to look at Arthur. "I believe that when you meet someone, you don't always know straight away. But sometimes-" Here he paused, and the sun glinted off his golden eyelashes. "They sneak up on you."

And with that, he walked away down the road. Arthur paused, then followed. 

"Eames! Where are you going?" Arthur called. 

"To my apartment, of course! Unless you want to sleep in the bus shelter?"

"Fuck you, Eames," Arthur grinned. 

***

An hour later, Arthur was sitting in the exact same place he had been sitting when Eames killed him. Brilliant. 

And that was the moment when he should've confronted him about it. He should've asked, why did you kill me? How could you do it? How could you act happy to see me and say cutesy things when only months ago you consciously put poison in my drink and killed me? 

_I hate you,_ he thought. _I fucking hate you._ But he didn't. The words sounded wrong, like words said too often that they lost meaning. They were meaningless. Words that were no longer in his dictionary. 

And as he stared at Eames, a small smirk lining his mouth, the golden light reflecting off of his honey-colored eyes, as he watched the man, whom fate was so sure he was his soulmate, he couldn't help thinking that there would be worse soulmates to have.

"Want a drink?" Eames asked, concern in his eyes. He had been daydreaming. 

"No, thanks." Arthur shook himself back to reality. "Can we just, you know, chill for a bit?" 

"Sure," An easy smile appeared on his face. "Let's watch TV."

Arthur was sitting in his chair, thinking about Eames. He could feel himself being drawn in again, into the pools of brown that were his eyes. He had a way of smiling, of reminding Arthur that not everyone in this world was bad. Not all hope was lost. 

Could he kill him? His hands replied, that yes, yes he could. But could his heart bring himself to do it?

No. 

And that was his fault. He was weak. He disgusted himself. 

But, he found it didn't matter. Not anymore. 

So, finally, for the first time in as long as he could remember, he let himself drift into a dreamless slumber. 

He was woken up a few hours later by the TV nattering at him. 

"It is suspected that there is a madman living among us, digging up graves. Is he a lonely relative? A ruthless body snatcher? And most importantly, could your family member be next? Keep tuned to find out more, including witness descriptions!" 

"Eames," Arthur whispered. "We're in trouble." 

Eames woke up quickly, snorting. He stared at the TV in blank shock. 

"Fuck," he muttered. 

Arthur patted his arm awkwardly. "It's okay. You've gotten yourself out of worse situations. It's going to be okay."

"It's not that," he mumbled. "I'm a madman. I dug up a grave. I dug up a fucking grave." He looked over at Arthur. "This is your fault, okay?" 

He grinned. "What, for dying? That was yours." 

Eames glared at him. "I never killed you." 

"I was there, Eames. It doesn't matter, anyway."

Eame sighed. "I don't know who killed you, Arthur, but it wasn't me. Okay?" 

For the first time in months, Arthur let himself consider this. But how could he ever believe him? 

"Do you believe me?" Eames asked. 

What could he say? He could only lie. 

"Yes."

Eames had fallen asleep. It was time. Arthur would kill him. 

_I'm fickle,_ he thought. _But at least I'll be free._

He reached into the cupboard, and pulled out the sharpest knife he could find. He ran his hand over the blade. It was sharp, metallic. And it looked like freedom. 

He walked over the Eames. It would be so easy to cut the gentle, pale skin of his throat. The life would drain out, and he would be free. 

He touched the blade. It was cold, real. It was reality. And he realized how much he didn't want to hurt Eames.

Instead, he wanted to be free, but not free from Eames. He wanted to be free from all the darkness inside him. 

Slowly, he raised the knife to his throat. It would be so easy. He would be free from this lifeless form. Free from all the darkness. _Please._

 _Please,_ he thought. _Please just let me die._

His hand was shaking, his knife at his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. 

"Arthur-" Eames said. 

"NO!" Arthur screamed. "DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME NOT TO DO THIS! YOU KILLED ME, EAMES! YOU FUCKING KILLED ME, AND YOU DON'T GET TO TELL ME WHEN TO DIE!"

When Eames spoke again, his voice was low, and shaking. "Arthur. I can't tell you how to die, but I can tell you what life would be like without you." Tears sprang to his eyes. "I've only just gotten you back. Please." 

Arthur's hand just shook. Tears sprang to his eyes, but did not spill. 

Eames' voice was level. "Give me the knife, Arthur." 

"No, please, just let me go." 

Slowly, careful not to make any sudden moves, Eames took the knife from Arthur's grasp, and held Arthur's hand. 

"If one of us is going to die, it should be me," Eames said, quietly.

"No." Arthur's voice was just a whisper. 

"I let him. I let him kill you. I was too late," Eames muttered to himself. 

"Who? Who killed me?" Arthur asked, desperate. 

Eames just shook his head. 

When he spoke, his voice was merely the faintest of sounds, like wind in the trees. 

"Cobb."


	7. i wish i wasn't dead

His head hitting the floor. Blood. Memories. And then, mercifully, darkness. 

_"Where are you going?" Cobb asked, his eyes flashing. He had been angrier, recently. More disconnected with reality._

_"To Eames' house," Arthur replied, distracted._

_"Eames? Your relationship is purely... professional, I hope?" The question was asked lightly, but there seems to be a tenseness hidden underneath._

_"Why the question?" Arthur grabbed his backpack, filled with the paperwork from today. He would sign all of it, he promised himself. Just after he'd had a few glasses of wine with Eames..._

_"Arthur, ANSWER ME!" Cobb bellowed._

_"Jeez, Cobb. What does it matter?" Then he stopped. Was Cobb... jealous?_

_"Stay behind," Cobb growled. "Finish signing the papers. Then you can go."_

_Arthur sighed. "Fine."_

_"Jesus Christ, Arthur, what's happened to you? Is it raining?" Arthur stood in Eames' doorway, dripping wet. He decided to stay silent so Eames could figure it out for himself. "Well, come in. What took you so long?"_

_"Cobb made me finish off the work for today." He snickered. "He's jealous of us."_

_Eames smiled. "Don't blame him._ I'm _jealous of us."_

_Arthur rolled his eyes._

_There was a pause. "You don't think... Cobb found out about the plan?"_

_Arthur waved him away. "No way. Don't be so paranoid."_

_Eames poured them both a glass of wine._

_They sat in silence for a while. Eames was staring at Arthur, and Arthur had caught him in the act._

_"What?" Arthur blushed._

_"You're adorable," Eames said, smiling._

_Arthur opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. A smile spread across his face. This was different to the many times he had said it beforehand. That was flirtatious, silly, him laughing at Arthur. This seemed... genuine._

_Eames clocked Arthur's lack of reaction and backtracked. "Oh, sorry! I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Let's forget I ever said that."_

_"No, it's okay," Arthur whispered._

_Eames paused for a moment, then spoke. "If I'm honest, Arthur, I really like you."_

_The silence felt thick, and Arthur couldn't breathe for a second._

_"I like everything about you. I love your way of concentrating on your work so hard that you don't let the world through. I love how your forehead wrinkles when you see something you like. I love the way you smile when I've managed to get through to you. I like you a lot, Arthur, and I sometimes think I'm qualified so say the word love. But I won't, because I don't want to make you uncomfortable. So, if you want me out of your life, or you don't feel the same way, say the word and I'll leave. You'll never see me again."_

_During the course of his speech, Arthur had reached his hand over, and clasped Eames' hand._

_"But... why me? How can you be so sure?"_

_Eames' eyes began to tear up. "There are approximately seven billion people on this Earth. I haven't met them all, but I know that there is no one, absolutely no one like you. There is no one I'd rather be with than you."_

_Arthur began to laugh. The he began to cry. A bubble of snot popped out of his nose. "You old sop."_

_Eames snorted. "You're the one drowning in your own snot, and_ I'm _the sop?"_

_"I thought... I thought you hated me," Arthur giggled._

_Eames sighed. "Arthur, I don't offer my apartment to my worst enemies! I really like watching you sleep, by the way."_

_Arthur groaned. "I thought_ I _was the one who was watching you."_

_"You underestimate my ability to not sleep at all," Eames said._

_"I like you too, for the record. We just don't agree on a lot of things," Arthur frowned. "Before we get into a relationship, I'm going to have to write you a questionnaire to figure out what we have in common." A small smile spread over Arthur's face, but he tried to hide it. Eames' expression was incredibly serious._

_"Good idea."_

_"I was JOKING! Eames, stop taking stuff I say so seriously! God, we are useless," Arthur laughed._

_Eames looked shy for a second. "Can I kiss you?"_

_Arthur smiled. "You can have all the kisses." Absentmindedly, he took a sip of wine. The memories flooded back, and Arthur watched himself from a third person perspective as the wine touches his lips and the poison took hold of his body._

_As he collapsed, and Eames' beautiful face floated into his line of vision._

_He remembered, his last thought wasn't,_ you fucking bastard, you killed me _. It wasn't,_ I will hate you for all of eternity. 

_It was,_ I never even got to kiss you. 

When Arther came to, Eames was sitting next to him, holding his hand. When he saw Arthur's eyes flit open, he quickly dropped his hand like it was a hot coal.

"Oh, sorry... I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable when you came to... I'm sorry..." Eames stuttered.

"Eames... do you remember the day I died?" Arthur asked, hesitantly. 

Tears flooded to Eames' eyes. "How could I forget?" 

"Why did Cobb kill me?" 

Eames paused, his Adam's apple bopping up and down. "It was meant for both of us, I think. He threatened me, before. He found out about our plan, and said that if we carried through with it he'd kill us. I thought he was bluffing. I didn't realise how far gone he was... I should've..." Eames drew to a close. 

"His obsession drew him to insanity." Arthur's voice was just a whisper. He _knew._ He had been obsessed with killing Eames only a day ago. 

Eames nodded. "Yes. We should've done it earlier. The man that tried to poison us... he wasn't Cobb. It was his obsession." 

"Can I believe you?" Arthur asked. 

"Can you try?" Eames countered. 

"Did you mean what you said that day?" Arthur asked, shyly. 

"Of course I meant it." Eames paused. "I still feel the same way I did."

"Eames, I'm _dead_. My soul may be here, but I'm buried in the ground somewhere in London. My body is decomposing. I'm not really here, Eames. If anyone walks in while you kiss me, all they'll see is a man kissing empty air. I'm fucking _dead_. There's nothing you can do to change that, no matter how loving and sexy and beautiful and full of life you are. I can't love you, because I'm dead, and you are not. No matter what you do, I'll always be dead. Loving me will not bring me back to life." Arthur sighed. "I wish to God I could be with you." As Arthur said it, he realized how true it really was. He was exhausted with searching for revenge. 

"You can be with me, Arthur. You think I don't know what was in that book?" Eames smiled at Arthur's shocked expression. "Yeah, I went back and checked it out, to see what had gotten you so shook up."

Eames lifted up his hand to caress Arthur's face, but when Arthur flinched away, he lowered his hand. 

"We're meant to be, Arthur." His eyes filled with sadness, but he dredged up a smile from within. "But I can put destiny on hold if you don't want it. You'll always be the most important thing to me, but it's okay if you don't feel the same way." 

It took a long time for Arthur to find his voice, but when he did, it came out as a spit. "It's not _destiny._ "

Eames was silent for a while. "What is it then?" 

"I don't fucking _know."_ Arthur's voice cracked on the last syllable. "I wish I wasn't dead." 

"I love you," Eames said. "I love you, despite your broken bits. I love you _because_ of them."

" _Stop_." The word was like ice. "You're making this worse." 

"Fine." Eames smiled through his tears. He was so strong. "Fine." 

And with that, he shut the door behind him. 


	8. you wanted this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry it's been a while, please leave some Kudos or a comment if you're enjoying the story so far! I love y'all!

Arthur's first thought when he woke up was, _was this Groundhog Day?_

This time, the deja vu was dizzying and unmistakable. As Arthur's eyes adjusted to the murky gloom, he longingly stared at Eames, lying on the floor in a small heap, the covers strewn all around him. He could feel the regret pulsing at his heart, and he strived to push it away, until the anger erupted through himself and he squeezed his hands until his knuckles turned white with rage at himself, the uncontrollable pain, and something else. 

_Love?_

"I HATE THIS!" Arthur whispered to himself through gritted teeth. 

No. 

He sat there, flexing his hands and rubbing his temples with his hands. Because. _Because._

One thing had just occurred to him. 

_Fuck._

Eames had drawn him back in. 

And he had fallen through ever second of it. 

Arthur had originally thought that Eames was a well. A well of dark eyes and dry smiles and flirtatious laughter and strong hands and crazy waistcoats. But now he realized the truth. 

Eames wasn't a well. He was a bottomless pit. A bottomless pit of care and concerned eyes and mischief and care and _love._

That was the worst of it. 

Last night, Eames had said the word love. So sincerely, Arthur had almost believed it. No. He _had_ believed it.

 _How could he love me?_ Arthur thought to himself. He got up, his feet dragging, his empty footsteps echoing through Eames' "flat". 

Pushing the bathroom door open, the un-oiled hinges creaked, a breathless moan of age which echoed through the entire apartment. Arthur gritted his teeth, hoping Eames wouldn't wake up. 

A few seconds went by. He released the breath he had been holding. The coast was clear. 

He sat down in front of the mirror. Staring at himself in disgust. 

What did Eames see in him? He was so broken. Dark circles lining his bottomless eyes, he stared at himself, challenging. His jaw clenched. His disheveled hair stuck out in all direction. He was a mess. 

The biggest, _fucking_ mess. 

How could Eames love him? How? He was nothing. Just a dead man, on the run from himself. Living inside this cracked shell of a body. Trying to escape. 

_I want out._ The thought was loud and clear, at the forefront of his mind. _I want to leave this body. I just want to die, for real this time. Why me? Why the fuck did you pick me to live like this?_

But he knew how to get out.

Every fiber of his being told him to let Eames in. _Let him love you._

"I can't. I fucking can't." He sobbed to himself. 

_You'll get out._

_You'll finally be able to get out of this broken body you're in. You'll be able to die. You'll be able to escape from this feeling. From this sensation. They never cared for you, Arthur. They can't see you. They'll never see you. Just tell him. Kiss him. Be with him. He loves you. And you love him, don't you? You've been wanting this for years. You're dead. You've got nothing to lose. You're useless. Just do it-_

"ENOUGH!" He shouted. For a moment, he just sat there. Salty tears stinging his face. 

"Arthur?" 

Eames stood in the doorway, pillow under his arm, sleepily rubbing at his eyes.

"Are you okay?" 

Arthur tried to inconspicuously rub the snot off of his face before getting up and dredging up a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Eames smiled, a small little thing. "Because-" He paused. "If I'm honest, Arthur, you look bloody awful. Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Arthur closed his eyes. He opened them. And then he kissed him. 

It's strange, how one moment the world is spinning like before, time is moving forward, tears are falling, salty waves are crashing in. And suddenly, with one kiss, everything stops. In that moment, nothing existed except Arthur and Eames. This beautiful combination of broken and fixed, flesh and bone, life and death. It's strange, how in one moment, the whole world can melt away.

This time, when the tears fell, they were tinged with life, and not despair. And strangely, when their tears mixed, all the different emotions mixed together to create this one thing, this one feeling, that Arthur and Eames, _fuck I'm kissing Eames_ , Arthur and Eames were kissing! Arthur. And. Eames. 

God. _Eames._

As their noses touched and tongues tangled and their breath mingled, all this pain poured through their fingertips, this desperation fueled their kisses. 

"I can't tell you what's wrong," Arthur said, when they finally stopped kissing. 

Eames couldn't stop beaming. "And why's that?" 

"Because everything just became right again." 

And then Arthur kissed Eames again. 

***

A few hours later, Arthur stared at Eames, lying on the floor. A frown creased his features. 

"Eames?" Arthur asked, tentatively. 

"Yes, darling?" 

"You're not going to sleep on the floor, are you?"

Eames sighed. "All evidence is supporting this, right?" 

"At the moment, yes." 

"At the moment?" 

"Come here."

"I'm alright here." Then he groaned. 

"What is it?" Arthur grinned. 

"My back." 

"Hmm, wonder what that's from?" 

"I haven't the foggiest idea." 

"Sleeping on the hard floor, you dimwit!" 

Eames chuckled into the dark. 

"Picking up some British expressions from me, are we?" 

"Eames, please come here. I've sat on your lap on a plane before. That was illegal too, may I just say."

A sigh. A breath old cold wind from the open window. A few moments of silence. 

"It's not like you can die." Arthur could hear Eames' smile. 

"Come here." 

Eames gave in. He climbed into the bed next to Arthur. They were lying there for a few minutes when Arthur heard a piercing scream. He jumped up. 

"What is it, Eames? Eames?" 

"Jesus Christ, Arthur. Your feet are bloody cold." 

Giggles filtered through the air. For a while, they just lie there, staring up at the ceiling. 

"Arthur?" Eames asked. Arthur could hear his smile. 

"Yes, darling?" 

"Only _I_ can call you that, you twat," Eames groaned. 

"Admit it. You love it."

"I most certainly do _not_ ," Eames said dryly. 

"Are you going to listen to me or not?" Arthur kissed Eames gently on the lips. 

"Fine." Eames could not hide his smile. 

"I love you." 

Arthur took a deep breath, then began to speak. "I love you, and I think I've known that for a while. Even before I read that book, I realised that I was in love with you. And that scared me. So I drowned myself in my own pain. But I've realised I've got to let myself be loved. I've got to love, too. Because how will I ever know if I'm human?" Arthur was crying now, his blotchy white face almost luminous in the dark. 

"It's you." Arthur took a deep breath. "It's-"

"Always been you." Eames smiled. "I feel it too." Eames took his hand and caressed Arthur's chin gently. "I'm glad you're letting yourself be loved. Because I love you so much too." 

Their lips met in the dark. Eames tasted of sweetness, pain, and survival. 

"I love you too," Eames whispered. 

For the longest time, they just lay together in the dark, their hands intertwined. And for once, Arthur was completely, utterly content. 

And when sleep finally came and took him, he found himself fighting to stay awake, just for a few more minutes with Eames. 

_White light. Blinding. Shielding eyes from the glare of the tunnel in front of him. Endless. The light was pulling him forward, sucking him in. His feet were planted into the ground. He was trying to fight it._

Don't fight it, Arthur. You're safe. This is what you wanted, wasn't it?

_"Who are you?" Arthur voice filtered through the whiteness, hardly penetrating it at all. His voice felt small, weak. Like he was nothing._

That is not important. I think you know what is happening, don't you? 

_"I'm not ready. Please."_

I thought this was what you wanted, no?

_Arthur stood there, the dark light engulfing him._

_The voice, when it came again, was low and teasing._

Ohhhh. I get you. You're fickle. You're in love with Eames, aren't you?

_Arthur was silent. The white mist around him began to swirl, a hurricane of freezing cold air. Arthur began to shiver._

Answer me, Arthur. 

_The voice was threatening. The mist swirled faster, and ice began to climb his shoes._

_"Yes! Yes, I love him," Arthur yelled, panic lacing his every syllable._

But this is what you wanted, no? To finally die? I can give that to you. I can give you what you've always wanted. 

_"I don't want it anymore," Arthur said, final. This time, he meant it._

Ah, but no. This isn't how it works. 

_The mist swirled faster and faster, until Arthur was completely immersed. The ice was still rising, covering his chest._

Just relax. It doesn't hurt. 

_"WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH ME?!" Arthur screamed, his throat raw with pain._

All good things must come to an end, Arthur. 

_As the ice rose up his throat, Arthur yelled out._

_"I LOVE YOU, EAMES! I'LL COME BACK FOR YOU!"_

Ah, the sweet lies lovers tell. _The voice mused, an amused tinge to its voice._

_"I'll kill you! You fucking son of a bitch! You took away the only thing I had! I don't want to die!"_

_His screams rose in volume. Panic clawed at his throat, tugging at him, pulling him down. Black flooded his vision._

You wanted this. 

_I wanted this._

_I don't want this._

_I love him._

_Please don't kill me._

_I have only just begun to kiss him._

_No more future._

_No more love._

_No more darling._

_No more honeypot eyes._

_No more glistening eyelashes._

_No more sarcastic comments._

_Just black, and this clawing pain at his chest._

_It was his heart finally breaking, right in half._

When Eames woke up, he was alone.


	9. true friends

It's strange, thought Eames, how everything in your life could be right for one day, and then something happens that completely tears it apart. 

Arthur was gone. That much was sure. The empty space in Eames' bed just highlighted the empty space in his heart even more. The sheets were crumpled in the same position as they were yesterday, the bed sheets folded in the same way. Everything was the same, except Arthur was gone. As if he had evaporated. As if he had never been there in the first place. 

For the longest while, he just sat there, head in his hands, staring at the ground. It was as if if he could just look up, then Arthur would be there with him, holding his hand, telling his that everything would be okay. But when he lifted his head, his brain feeling like it has been filled with lead, the room was the same as before. His life was the same as before. 

_Of course it is_ , he thought to himself. _You're dreaming. You dreamed this whole thing. Your mind was so overwhelmed with grief from Arthur's death that you made up this scenario in your head. You're so,_ so _stupid._

But the smell of Arthur was still in his bed sheets. His taste was still on his tongue. Arthur had been here, and only yesterday. 

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. He rifled through his drawers until he found the book he was looking through. He dusted off the cover, and the word "Soulmates" appeared. Was that really only three days ago? He flicked through the book until he found what he was looking for. 

_The only way they can escape from Limbo is if they find their soulmate and fall in love with them. Only then will they achieve a more permanent state of death._

Closing the book, he stared into space. So many emotions welled up inside him, and yet a cold kind of numbness spread through him, until a dry smile tugged at his lips. Yet, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. 

"So he escaped," Eames whispered to himself. "He only loved me to get out." 

Groaning, he put his head in his hands. "Godspeed, my darling."

***

"Yusef. Yusef, I need your help," Eames wheezed, having run in from outside. His suit clung to him, his tie lopsided and his ordinarily perfectly gelled hair sticking up every which way.

Yusef spun around in his chair, his dark eyes scrutinizing Eames, an amused look on his face. "Did you run all this way?" 

Eames stopped to catch his breath. "I'm serious. Please. I need your help." 

Yusef's face changed, his ever laughing eyes suddenly serious. "Tell me." 

So Eames told him everything. From what Cobb had done, to Arthur coming into his flat, to the kissing, the soulmates, and finally, the disappearance. Yusef said nothing the whole way through, but when Eames finally finished, he leapt out of his chair. 

"But that's simply brilliant! In my life, I have never heard something so amazing as that!" Yusef shouted, his voice raised in excitement. 

"What is?" Eames asked, exhausted from finally telling his story. 

"The fact that your love extended even after death! I told you, you two are made for each other." 

Eames groaned. "But he's dead, Yusef. He never loved me. He only wanted to leave." 

Yusef waggled a finger at him. "No way. Just _believe._ The only reason he truly died was because he loved you." He sighed. "Fate is a cruel thing. As soon as he figured out that he loved you, you were torn away from him. That's cruel. But it doesn't mean it's hopeless."

"What do I do? He's dead. He obviously doesn't want me to come after him. He's gone somewhere I can't follow." 

Yusef clenched his fists. "Listen here, Eames. I'm not having you sit here and mope about Arthur. You two are soulmates! You know it. I know it. We all fucking knew it before you did, so if you're just going to sit here and mope about his death, you must be out of your mind." He stood up, and walked towards Eames, his voice rising. 

"You got a second chance to love him, and you _did_. And now he's gone. You two love each other, and I'll bet you anything he's sitting there, on his ass, wherever he is, waiting for you to come after him. So you'd better get a move on. He saved you once, and now you've got to return the favor. You know I'm right, and if you won't do it, you bet to God I will. I'll tell him you said hello, shall I?" 

"He saved me..." Eames' eyes were glazed over, lost in some distant memory. 

"The plan that got Arthur killed by Cobb... what was that, again?" 

Eames thought for a while. "It was to kill the projection of Mal in Cobb's memory so he wouldn't get distracted. His objection with Mal drove him to insanity, to kill Arthur, right? But-" 

Yusef's chocolate eyes were lined with sadness. "That wasn't the plan, Eames. Arthur didn't tell you?" 

Eames shook his head. 

"Cobb's obsession with Mal wasn't what drove him to insanity. It was his obsession with Arthur." 

Confusion was carved into Eames' face. "But-" 

"Cobb was going to kill you, Eames. Arthur accidentally found out, and he wanted to do anything in his power to stop it. So, he did everything he could. The night he died, Arthur was going to get Cobb shipped off to the mental hospital, where he couldn't hurt you anymore. But-" 

Realization dawned on his face. "No-"

Yusef nodded. "Cobb got there first. He poisoned your drink. Arthur had no idea, and he took a sip, and the rest, they say, is history." 

Eames jumped up. "ARTHUR DIED INSTEAD OF ME?" 

"Eames, calm down-" 

"You're telling me, the love of my life has died for me, just because he wanted to protect me, just because he loved me, just because this fucking madman was jealous of our relationship, and you're telling me to calm down?" 

"You didn't know? I'm so sorry-" 

"You know what? Save it. I have to do something about this." 

A small smile played on Yusef's lips. "You're back, I see. _That's_ the spirit." 

Eames collapsed into his seat. "How did you even find out about this?" 

He shrugged. "His death seemed suspicious, so I did some research." 

"Yusef, you genius." 

"Come on, let's get this boy back." 

***

They worked into the night, books piling up on the table, spilling out onto the floor. Yusef would hold up one of his compounds, let it catch the light, until Eames would give his opinion on whether it would work. A curt shake of the head, or smile and a nod. They worked until their eyelids droops and their pens drew strange patterns on their papers. 

"Need... sleep..." Eames groaned. 

"Go to sleep, Mr Eames. I'll sort things out, and by morning, things will be better. I promise." 

"No... I'm afraid of sleep. The dreams..." 

Yusef sighed. "Go to sleep. Write down your dreams in the morning. They could mean something, you know."

"I mostly dream of Arthur." A single tear rolled down Eames' cheek, and caught the light. 

Yusef smiled understandingly. "You love him, don't you?" 

Eames nodded. "More than anything else in the world."

"This can't be the end." Yusef said under his breath. 

Yusef suddenly swept all his papers off the table. Excitement lit up his face, and madness glittered in his eyes But this wasn't Cobb's type of madness. This was the madness of genius. 

"THIS CAN'T BE THE END! You're soulmates, right? There's no way this is the end. So if Arthur's not coming back, then you have to come to him."

Shock registered. "Wait, but how am I going to do that?" 

Yusef was so excited his hands began to flap. "Okay. Okay. Hear me out. You remember Mal? You think she was just a projection?" 

"But-" 

"Cobb found a way to bring her back, Arthur! I know we don't have Cobb's dreaming ability, but we can bring Arthur back in a dream, and ask him where he is. And then..." He paused, a spark dancing in his eyes. "Then, I guess you do whatever you want. You can bring him back. Life must have second chances, right?" 

Eames considered this. This all sounded utterly unbelievable, and he wanted to tell Yusef that he was being absolutely stupid, but then he saw his excited expression. He could play along to make him happy, right? It was worth a try. 

Eames smiled. "Okay, Yusef. You're out of your mind, but you're lucky. Let's do this." 

Yusef smiled back. "I miss him as much as you do, you know." 

"I know," Eames tried to dredge up a smile, but it didn't work. It didn't matter. For now, he had a friend, and that was enough. 

In a time of crisis you find out who your friends are. Eames was glad he had one left.


	10. Robbie

White light stretched out in all directions, pouring into Arthur's eyes and spilling out through his mouth as his entire body shuddered. It burned like the heat of a thousand suns. 

"It should only take a second." Robin, or "Robbie", as the boy had asked Arthur to call him, reassured Arthur as he clapped his hands together. The light stopped. 

"What are you doing to me?" Arthur croaked. His throat felt dry and hoarse. 

"I'm just downloading your memories. Some new arrivals get super nostalgic, so it's great to have them on film." He smiled. "Just a few preparations, and then I can show you around." 

When Arthur didn't reply, the boy took this as a cue to keep talking. "Anyway, I'm super excited. You're my first one, you know? You've been assigned to me. Feels great not to be the family disappointment for once."

"Are you dead, too?" Arthur asked, curiously. 

Robbie chuckled warmly. "Nah, I was born here. My... parent is the boss. Don't see much of them. They brought you here, I believe?" 

Arthur frowned. "The one who stole me from Earth?" 

"Yeah, that's the one. You're not happy about it?" The boy smiled, not unkindly. His cheeks were dimpled, his curly ginger hair sticking up every which way. His eyes glistened with the excitement with youth. He looked about fourteen years old, but if what he was saying was true, then he must be...

"You're a god, aren't you?"

Robbie's eyes shone. "Oh, goodness, no!" He spoke with a slight, lilting accent. "I'm a demigod, though. Which means I can visit Earth whenever I want." 

"Sounds like fun," Arthur said wistfully. 

"There's something about you..." The boy sat there for a moment, stroking his chin, with one small hand. He looked like a living embodiment of a cherub. If all this had happened back when Arthur was still alive, he would never have believed it. But now, it didn't feel like much of a stretch. "You're in love, aren't you?" 

There was something about Robbie's manners that make Arthur laugh, a genuine, full laugh that made Arthur feel like he was floating. This boy, so strange, yet so sweet, was the best companion he could have asked for in this strange afterlife of his. 

"How did you know?" Arthur was blushing, a faint red glow spreading up his cheeks. 

"Well, you're absolutely positively glowing, and you seem to be on a mission." He paused, trying to find the right words. "Also, I've been watching you for quite a while." Robbie blushed. "I'm a sucker for an enemies to lovers romance." 

Arthur gently smacked him around his head, frizzing up his ginger curls. "Well, the stars appear to be severely crossed, my friend." 

"Oh, because you're dead, and he's alive? I've seen worse. Romeo and Juliet were both dead, remember?" Robbie grinned. 

Arthur groaned. "That wasn't the point. Their stars never got uncrossed. Anyway, I promised Eames I'd come back for him." He half glared at Robbie. "Your parent was an asshole about that, by the way."

Robbie flinched. "Well, they are, generally. It sucks." 

Arthur's brow furrowed with concern. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah! A-okay." Robbie enthusiastically put both his thumbs up. "Hey, you can't do that! One of the conditions of me being a demigod is that I'm not allowed to answer questions." He frowned in mock irritation. 

"Doesn't that annoy you, though? The fact that you can't talk about yourself?" Arthur asked, curious. 

"Hey, stop it!" Robbie suddenly shouted. His eyes darted from right to left, as if checking whether anyone had heard. "You think I don't want to be an ordinary boy? Do all the normal things boys do? Go to school, get a girlfriend or a boyfriend, get my drivers license, go to college? But I can't. I'm stuck here, just like you. So, just shut up, okay? It's harder than it looks! I would trade all this power for just a day of ordinary life. So shut up." 

Arthur was silent for a moment. "Sorry. I didn't realize." 

"You just saw me as an actor in your star-crossed love story. I get it." There were tears in his eyes. Arthur had appeared to hit a nerve. 

"No, I didn't!" Arthur protested, although he had. Maybe that was the point. Maybe you see everyone as side characters in your own story, and the reason why everyone leaves eventually is because you're the only constant character in the story of your life. Maybe you have to learn to share the main role with someone else, if you want to keep them.

"Robbie," Arthur said quietly. The boy's mad scientist hair jerked up. He tried to dredge up a smile, and his smile automatically lit up his eyes. How could anyone hate such a marshmallow of a demigod? 

"Do you think I messed up?" Arthur asked. "I've been thinking about myself as the main character. I've got to learn to put someone else first, right?" 

Robbie's lime green eyes lit up from the inside. "That's the spirit! See, now your star-crossed love story has a moral!"

Arthur ruffled Robbie's golden retriever curls affectionately. "If this love story has a happy ending, then I'm _so_ adopting you."

Robbie smiled so hard Arthur thought his whole face would split in half. "I'm counting on it. Now, let's go be the knight in shining armor that you are."

***

A smile could not help but appear on Arthur's face as he walked beside a skipping, excited Robbie. "Where are we going, exactly?" 

"To the memory palace!" Robbie laughed at Arthur's confused expression. "Yeah, that's a real thing. It stores your memories, but also is the way to the subconscious, where the dream section is. Basically, we're going to break into your soulmate's subconscious. Yeah-" Robbie cut Arthur off as he tried to protest. "You know how people you love often come into your dreams after you've died? Well, yeah. That's us, helping. I invented it, actually. Cute way to keep in touch, right?"

"Wow. Just... wow." Arthur felt strangely overwhelmed, for some reason. "You're a big brain for such a small body." 

Robbie blushed. "Well, my parent didn't think it'd be a good idea for relatives to keep in touch, or they'd want to escape. I had to big them for the longest time for them to come around." 

"I'm intrigued as to how this works." Arthur was craning his neck, staring at the landscape stretching out all around him. "This is... breathtaking." 

Beautiful clouds the color of sunset mingled with each other, creating the vision that the world was a canvas some higher power had thrown a bucket of paint over. Exquisite buildings stretched into the horizon, and meadows rolled into the distance, scattered with flowers of every shape and size. Everywhere, people strolled peacefully around. He felt like he's died and gone to heaven, which, of course, he probably had. 

"My parent doesn't want anyone to leave," Robbie said, distractedly, as an answer. 

"Is this heaven?" Arthur asked. 

"No, it's a prison," Robbie growled. The conversation seemed to be over. 

"You know, if you help me get Eames back, I'll help you escape and to be normal." 

"You can't fix that. No one can." Robbie mumbled. "I'll never be normal, and I've just got to accept that." 

Arthur felt his heart break for this small boy, kept from the world by this control freak of a parent. He was too young not to be normal. 

Arthur stopped in the middle of a beautiful meadow, the smell of pollen in the air. 

"Why are you stopping?" Robbie called out. 

"I'm going to help you, whether you like it or not."

Robbie almost smiled, but then stopped himself. "Suit yourself. You'll have to go through the Parent first."

"I can take them. I've died twice. I can deal with anything." 

"I can't tell what gives me more strength, your naivety or your bravery." Robbie smiled. 

"Has anyone ever told you that you're kind of a genius?" Arthur grinned. 

Robbie grinned back. "Anyone ever told you you're kind of pedantic?"

Arthur punched him lightly. "As I said. Genius." 

***

They were sitting at what Robbie called the dream desk, while Robbie was talking animatedly about how it worked. Honestly, Arthur didn't understand half of it, but he enjoyed listening to Robbie talk. He seemed to care so much, and it was strange how so much emotion could fit into such a small body.

"-and you're beamed over into Eames' subconscious into a dream, and then you just need to tell him where you are. Though, you should let him know you're coming for him. If this is going to work, you have to come to him." 

"Mm. Makes sense," Arthur mumbled. If he was being honest, he was a little overwhelmed by everything. It was strange, but he trusted Robbie with his life. 

"Don't be nervous," Robbie smiled. "This procedure is completely safe. I wouldn't hurt you." 

"I know that." Suddenly, Arthur leapt forward and crushed Robbie in a massive bear hug.

"What was that for?" Robbie asked, slightly embarrassed. 

"Nothing," Arthur smiled sheepishly. 

"Okay, well, I'm going to press a few buttons, and it should start working soon. I checked my records, it looks like he's asleep. It's your hour. Spotlight's up." He smiled, and there was so much warmth in it. 

"Okay." Arthur cracked his knuckles. "Let's do this."

"Cool." He pressed a few buttons. "Get ready.

"Aaaaand... now."


	11. Eames

He had come to a point, Eames realized, where every single decision he made was a matter of picking the lesser of two evils. Get out of bed, or don't? To get out would be to breath, to walk, to function without Arthur. And Eames felt his soul collapsing whenever he thought of doing a single thing without him. Arthur had died for him, after all. He wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for him. It wouldn't be fair to live for him, when he was _gone._

And to stay in bed? To stay in bed would be to face the dreams.

The dreams came every night. His monsters would rip him to shreds, each cut as painful as the last, until death finally brought him the temporary relief of waking up. Of gasping, his hand clutching his chest and his heartbeat raced. And still, the little voice in his head told him - _he died for you. He didn't know it, but he did. And the crazy fucking thing is, if he knew, he would die for you a million times over. Would you do the same for him?_

Would he do the same for him? 

_Would you?_

"Why did you leave?" Eames whispered to himself. He looked over to where Yusef was sitting. "Yusef?" 

His friend looked up, caught his eye and smiled widely, his teeth on display. "Ah, hello! You're up! Any luck today?" 

Eames shook his head. "We're going to need a stronger sedative. If Arthur's even trying to reach me, of course." 

Yusef frowned. "Oh no, no! Don't think like that! Of course he's trying to reach you. He loves you."

"Do you think?" Eames sat down next to Yusef, and watched him mix a few chemicals together in a bottle, wait a few seconds for a reaction, and then mix some more in. Yusef looked up, concern lining his eyes. 

"You don't die for the people you hate, silly," Yusef smiled. He patted Eames on the shoulder awkwardly. 

"Well, he didn't know he was dying for me, did he?" 

"Nope," Yusef winked. "Just shows how true love works, huh?"

"Sometimes you make no sense at all," Eames frowned. "Are you saying... this was fate?"

"I'm saying you both are living in a star-crossed romance."

Eames smiled, but his eyes were pained. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" 

"Well, ever since my ex-wife and I got divorced, I've been finding it hard to find purpose. And, I can see that you two are in love. I just can't let fate get the better of you two. We have to save it."

Eames felt a lump in his throat. "In that case... thank you." 

Yusef smiled. "My pleasure. Right, this one should work. Lie down, please."

Eames lied down. "If this doesn't work... thank you for your help anyway. I couldn't have made it through without you." 

Yusef looked embarrassed. "Thank YOU. I hope it works out."

Eames smiled. ""Wish me luck."

"Good luck. Okay, I need you to drink this."

"Sure." Eames started to raise the drink to his lips, anticipating the moment the sedative touched his lips. "Uh, can we run through the plan again? Just want to double check."

Yusef smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Okay. The sedative will put you in a deep state of sleep. This allows you to connect with people in another dimension, who might be trying to reach you. This all depends on, you know, if he is actually trying to reach you."

"This all seems very, y'know, vague." 

"Well, it's our only shot." 

Eames took a deep breath. He held the bottle up to the light. He swirled the liquid round and round, and watched it glimmer as it caught the light from the ceiling. 

"Here goes nothing," Eames muttered, then tilted his head back and drank it.

"How long does it take to work?" Eames asked. 

"About five minutes." Yusef's eyes were filled with sadness. "To tell you the truth, Eames, I lied."

The room began to spin. "What?" 

"It's not a sedative. It's a poison." It took a few seconds for this to register. Eames tried to get up, to run, to do anything, but it felt as if his legs were filled with lead. His head began to droop. Shock registered vaguely, then panic. Thoughts began to swirl in his head, a hurricane of thought and colours and friends and love and everything that had ever mattered to him, crumbling in front of him. 

_Would you ever die for Arthur?_ The voice is his head relentlessly asked. _Yes_ , he thought. _Yes, he would._ Because, like it or not, he was going to. 

"The thing is," Yusef was still talking, his voice barely above a whisper. His voice sounded like a drone in his ear. He couldn't see, couldn't blink, couldn't breath. "Cobb payed me to finish off his job. That's how I knew about Arthur. But-" His voice cracked. "I'm not the bad guy here. I'm not. I just want you to be together with Arthur. And what better way to do that if you're both dead?"

A small smile tugged as Yusef's lips. "Some day you'll thank me for this. Or not."

Slowly, Eames' vision faded to black.

***

"Any luck?" Arthur asked Robbie, a frown creasing his troubled features.

Robbie pressed a few keys, then the screen cut out. "Shit!" he cursed. "Must be a power cut."

"Uh... well, we could go check with your Parent?" 

Suddenly, Robbie started hyperventilating. "No, no, no, no. We can't do that. No. No." 

Arthur was by his side in seconds. "Hey, it's okay. You're going to be okay." He paused. "Why can't we?"

"They'll h-h-urt me-" 

"It's okay. They can't hurt you anymore. You've got me." 

Robbie smiled, though his perfect tears clouded his features. "You're the best dad a boy like me could ever wish for."

Arthur felt tears well in his eyes. How could anyone hurt him? His hands clenched in anger at anyone who would ever consider hurting him in any way.

"Wait!" Robbie suddenly jumped up, an idea come to him. "The lights went out! That means one of two things - a power shortage, or a new arrival!"

Confusion registered. "But - wouldn't that be way too often? Wouldn't you have power shortages all the time?"

"Not in this section of 'heaven'. It means they're having trouble getting the new arrival to accept their new life. Like-" Robbie nudged Arthur, laughter glinting in his eyes. "Like you did when you first arrived."

Arthur frowned, but couldn't help but laugh. "Alright, we're making jokes about that now? I'll show you!" Smiling, Arthur grabbed hold of Robbie and flipped him upside down, dangling from his feet. Laughter filtered through the air, a joyous, beautiful sound. Arthur hugged Robbie with such ferocity it startled even him. 

When Robbie was finally put down on the ground, he was flushed, happy, and positively beaming. "Thank you."

"For what?" Arthur grinned. 

"For showing me affection. For loving me. For being an amazing Dad. I don't get that a lot." 

"I can imagine." Arthur gave this miracle boy one last hug. 

"So! Are we going to see who this new arrival is?" Robbie asked, clapping his hands in excitement. "I hope They won't make me show them around."

"Your Parent?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you've got me to show around, right? It's all good."

"Yeah," He said quietly. "It's all good." A smile so bright it lit him up on the inside. Arthur felt his heart spit open with affection for this boy. 

"You've actually got to finish showing me around after-" Before he could finish, he stopped in his tracks and his heart contracted. Arthur's mouth formed an O of astonishment.

He fell to the floor in shock. 

Because there, in front of him, was the star-crossed love of his life. 

_Eames._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying it! Please feel free to leave some feedback if you like it, I'd love to hear what you think!


	12. improvise

"Eames?" When Arthur's voice emerged, it did so as a whisper. Though he could have screamed to the entire world in that moment, until his throat was raw with the exertion and the whole world was covering its ears and his chest was out of breath. But he wouldn't care. Because Eames. Because Eames. Because Eames.

"Arthur?" Eames looked dazed, his bright eyes shining with confusion. Arthur didn't remember ever being so in love with another individual as he was in that moment.

His thoughts were piling up, one after another, until only one registered. He ran, he ran towards Eames until tears streamed from his eyes and he jumped into his arms, hugging Eames so tightly until they were both a crying, hugging mess. 

"You're squeezing the tears out of me, darling," Eames sobbed, rocking Arthur. 

"I thought I'd never see you again," Arthur whispered. 

"You're not getting rid of me that easily," Eames laughed, his voice heavy with released pain and tension. 

"How did you get here?" Arthur asked. Realisation dawned. Arthur let go of him, shock doubling him over. "You're... dead?"

"Long story." Something hardened in Eames' features. "Only matters, is we're together. We can take this one step at a time." 

Eames was so serious, Arthur couldn't help but laugh. Slowly, Eames joined in too, and the tension in each of their chests let go. They laughed and laughed, their tears streaming down their faces, until they could no longer tell what was relief, what was joy, what was sadness and what was disbelief. 

"This is insane, isn't it?" Eames giggled. 

"It totally is," Arthur agreed. "But we're not dreaming, are we?" 

"No. We can check, though." Eames began to reach into his pocket for his totem, but then Arthur reached out a hand and clasped his hand. 

"If we're dreaming, I don't want to wake up," Arthur said. 

Eames smiled, his beautiful features lighting up his face until he seemed to glow like an angel. 

"Eames," Arthur smiled. 

"Yes, darling?"

"You are the best soulmate and star-crossed love of my life I could ever wish for," Arthur laughed. 

"Who says the stars are crossed?" Eames said, his voice dripping with affection. "Let's uncross them."

"How?" Arthur said, staring at Eames, not quite being able to believe he was really here.

"Like this," and then they were kissing. This time they were not full of pain and tears and their kisses were not fueled by desperation. This time, it was slow and gentle and spoke of time, and a deep, deep relief. Arthur felt Eames grinning and slowly, Arthur relaxed into this love. He clutched Eames' face and this time, when their tears mingled, it was tears of joy. Their smiles and happiness seeped into each other. This was everything Arthur had ever dreamed of. Him, and his main character, loving each other. Happy. The stars were uncrossed. And finally, he let go of the pain. 

All of the hatred for Cobb: he let it go. 

All of the sadness from his friends leaving him behind: he let it go. 

All of his hesitation in giving in to this love he felt for Eames: finally, he let it all go. 

And as they broke away, and found all these people staring at them, he found he didn't care. He loved Eames, and that was enough. 

"It's always so awkward watching your parents kiss," a laughing voice proclaimed. Arthur looked down and saw Robbie, that frizzy-haired angel staring at them. 

"Oh, Eames, this is now my son, Robbie." 

"Our son, you mean," Eames grinned. "Hey, Robbie. I'm the cooler dad here. You should know that."

"Pleased to meet you, cool dad."

"HEY! I met you first!" Arthur whined. "I gave you entertainment! I gave you a whole romance to watch! Doesn't that count for something?"

"It won't if you don't get me out of here first," Robbie grumbled. "And that's never going to happen." 

"Alright." Arthur crouched down so that he was at eye level of Robbie. He stared into his wide, green eyes, and his heart ached for this small boy, barely fourteen, deprived of a normal life, and in it's place, given a world of abuse and work, until it crushed the light behind his eyes, "We're going to get you out of here. I don't know what your Parent is doing to you, but we're going to stop them." Arthur swallowed, a lump suddenly appearing in his throat. "You shouldn't have to go through this, and I couldn't have done this without you. So thank you." 

"What are you thanking him for?" A silky voice slithered through the shadows. 

Arthur's blood went cold. He recognized the voice, it's silken edge and the voice of someone who was amused by you. The voice of someone who had destroyed his life, and broken the world of the person who had put it back together again.

Arthur's hands clenched at his fists. Slowly, they came out the shadows. A tall, pale figure appeared. Their white cloak flowed around them, hardly daring to rest on their body without permission. The people who had been milling around them suddenly froze in their tracks and sunk to their knees in worship. The Parent stood there, signalling for Arthur, Eames and Robbie to bow, too. Arthur felt Robbie tremble next to him, fear seeping into the atmosphere. Robbie immediately sunk to his knees as well, his hands shaking. Arthur stood in defiance, Eames' hand in his. 

Suddenly angered by his defiance, ice began to climb Arthur's shoes. Against their will, Arthur and Eames sank to their knees, the freezing hurricane swirling around them, enlunfing them, teeth chattering,hands shaking, eyes shut, waiting for it to be over. 

Finally, it began to subside, and the Parent stood there, a small smile playing on their lips. 

"Now that we've got that out of the way, my name is Larc, but you may call me the Parent. Pleased to finally meet you. Formally." They winked, and smiled, but it was more of a growl, their white teeth gleaming. 

"I'm in charge here. Now, care you to explain what your business is with my son?" There was a metal edge to his voice, a glimpse of something that ran deeper. 

"He was just- uh - showing me around!" Arthur stuttered. 

"I heard him call you... what was it? Dad? Ignoring the fact that he has a perfectly good... Help me out, Robin. What am I to you?"

"Parent?" Robbie gulped. 

"Yes, that's right. And YET, you let this ungrateful little bitch flounce in here with his gay fucking lover, and you just let him get close to you, just like that? Why's that, you little shit?"

"Because you're not my Parent," Robbie whispered.

"What was that?" Their voice was calm, but held a hint of warning. 

"You're not my Parent. A Parent wouldn't cut me off from the world, never letting me leave this god-forsaken place. They would love me, give me affection, and not fucking slap me every time I suggest doing something other that what you suggest!" Robbie yelled, his tears flooding with tears. "Just let me out! I can't live like this anymore!" He sunk into a heap in the floor, sobs racking his shaking body. "Let me out." 

"Look at me," Larc smirked. "Look at me, you bitch."

"Don't you talk to him like-" Eames snarled, but then got cut off by a slap to his face. Arthur screamed, and was suddenly overcome by anger. 

"You son of a-" He lunged at him, but Robbie grabbed him. 

"Don't anger them!" He sniveled. "I'll be okay." 

"Robbie-" Arthur said, watching Robbie's blank, disassociated face. "Why do you live like this?"

"I was born here. I have nowhere else to go," Robbie said. He seemed bored, almost disinterested. It was almost as if this had all sucked the life out of him. 

Larc turned to Arthur and Eames. "If you're going to live here, you've got to learn the rules pretty darn quick."

"I'm not learning any rules set by you," Arthur whispered. "You're not the main character here."

"What-" 

"I'm not done." Arthur said. "If you think abusing such an innocent human as Robbie is okay, you've got another think coming. You're not the main character. You can use fear to get to everyone around here-" He gestured to everyone around. "But you're not getting to me. You're nothing but a spoiled child. And someone's got to teach you that you're not going to get your own way through this- intimidation of yours." 

That was when he noticed Eames behind Larc, his gun in hand. 

"Very brave," Larc snickered. "You think because you've lived through your star-crossed romance that you can live through a horror movie?" He smiled. "I'm sorry. Not all stories get a happy ending."

He pounced, hands locking around Arthur's throat, as he squeezed. Black spots swam in his vision. Thoughts lingered in his head, then disappeared. _Am I really going to die for a second time?_

Laughter bubbled out of him. Perhaps he was delirious, or crazy, or perhaps both. He didn't know. He didn't care. But in that moment, he was free. 

No one could hurt him anymore. Because everything - he just let it go. 

A gunshot. A weight, lifted from him. His eyesight returning to him, slowly. A large, shuddering breath. 

A body?

"Improvise," Eames gulped, dropping the gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about all the weird new characters, I know you only came here for Arthur and Eames, but really I'm just using this little story as a vent tool for myself. Things have been a little weird for me recently, and writing is just my way of letting these feelings out, y'know?  
> It probably doesn't make a lot of sense, this story.  
> Anyway, let me know what you think!


	13. Epilogue

~ Two weeks later ~

"Robbie!" Arthur yelled, with joy. "You're back." 

"Indeed," Robbie smiled wryly. "And it's been a whole six hours. How ever did you cope without my presence for that long?"

Arthur tweaked Robbie's ear. "I see the school life has made you cheeky. Maybe I'll have to give you an early bedtime, or something, to make up for it."

"Hah! Very funny, Dad." But then he grabbed Arthur in a massive bear hug, squeezing him until his tears ran down his cheeks. 

Arthur tried to understand, he really did. Larc was the only parent Robbie had ever had, albeit an abusive one. He had a right to grieve, amidst the celebrations of being finally free to live the life of his choosing. His grief was the price for his freedom.

"Where's Cool Dad?" Robbie asked, wiping his tears inconspicuously.

Arthur smiled. "Don't call him that! I swear, every time you say that my soul gets ripped in half."

"Fine, you can be Dramatic Dad," Robbie snorted. "Seriously, though, where is he?" 

"I think he's in the tech room. There's no stopping him now that you've shown him the controls."

"What's he doing?" Robbie grinned. 

"Haunting Cobb," Arthur giggled. 

"Wait, really?"

"Yup," Arthur grinned. "That's what he gets for trying to kill us."

Robbie laughed. "Oh, by the way, we've got a new arrival today."

"Oh, really? I'll get Eames to sort that out, or I can get one of my trainees to-"

Robbie cut him off, suddenly serious. "Um, I think it's better if you handle this one, actually."

Arthur shrugged. "Sure. You need any help with your homework or anything?"

"No, not today. I've got a date." Robbie was blushing like mad, and Arthur couldn't help but smile. 

"Look at you! My son, going on dates! You need any help getting ready?" 

"Ha, you'd make me go in a suit! I think I'm alright, actually. Thanks for the offer." 

"Hmmf. I happen to be a very fashionable guy," Arthur sulked. "So, who is the lucky human that gets to date you today?"

"Just a girl I met in my biology class," Robbie grinned. 

"Did you tell her that you're an angel?"

"No. I'll give it time. I haven't told her that I'm asexual, either. Now that Larc's gone, I have all the time in the world." 

The air seemed to go out of the room every time someone mentioned Larc. It was as if, by uttering his name, he would be able to be summoned to ruin their lives again.

"You've got time," Arthur said. "You've got all the time in the world."

***

A ball of apprehension settled itself into Arthur's stomach as he walked, familiarity already seeping into his beautiful surroundings. When Larc had died, almost two weeks ago, it felt like everyone had collectively released the breath they had been holding. He had been seeing more smiles, and everything seemed to be lighter. Like he was seeing everything through a rainbow, instead of a dark cloud. 

He wondered who this new arrival was. Last week, Robbie had assigned him a new arrival, a thirteen year old boy who had been killed in a car accident and didn't understand that he couldn't go back. This was common enough, Robbie told him. Often new arrivals thought they were still living when they arrived, and didn't understand that the life that they had once known was dead. 

Arthur was still at a loss as to why other arrivals didn't have to go through what he did, where he was stuck in purgatory until he found his soulmate. He had mentioned it to Eames, and he had hugged Arthur, whispering in his ear, "I don't know why it happened, darling, but I'm glad it did."

And you know what? Arthur was too. 

Because Eames was here with him. Beautiful, clever, flirtatious Eames, whom he would both live and die for. Whom he _had_ both lived and died for. 

And he stopped. Because there, cutting off his train of thought, was the one curly haired, dark eyed figure that had joined Arthur and Eames together. 

Yusef. 

"What are you doing here?" Arthur asked, bluntly. 

"Run in with the law. I wasn't thinking, Arthur. I'm so sorry for what I did."

"Of course you fucking weren't thinking. Eames told me everything." 

"Arthur - I'm so sorry. I'm not asking you to forgive me, because what I did was unforgivable. I would say that it wasn't me, it was Cobb. But that would be a lie. It was my decision. I wanted you two to be together, but now I see that I was wrong, and I'm so sorry. I take full responsibility for my actions." His cocoa eyes were wide and pleading. Sincerity oozed from the depths of his eyes, and Arthur almost gave in. Almost. 

"Don't apologize to be - apologize to Eames. You're the one who fucking poisoned him." Arthur deflated a little. He didn't want to be angry anymore, no matter the hatred boiling up inside him. "Look, I know it was Cobb behind it all. And, you uncrossed our stars. I don't want to lose your friendship, Yusef. You've done some bad things, and I think you should be punished. But I don't want to be angry with you anymore."

"On one condition," A voice behind them announced. An arm was slung around Arthur's shoulders. "Hi, darling." They kissed, enjoying the leisure of a future ahead of them. 

"What's the condition?" Arthur grinned, when they finally broke apart. He felt intoxicated with love. 

"I get to pick Yusef's punishment," Eames said, slyly. 

"Oh no," Yusef whispered. 

"Eames?" Arthur groaned, facepalming. "I'm sorry, but this was absolutely terrible. This was your brilliant idea?" 

Eames could barely hold in his hysterics. "Oh, come on, darling. Have a sense of humour!" 

"What are you two laughing about?" Yusef was looking increasingly concerned. 

"Okay. This is what we want-" Eames broke into giggles, then couldn't stop. Tears were running down his cheeks. 

"Oh, for fucks sake. Eames, stop. You're not THAT funny."

"Arthur, you tell him."

"Eames wants you to- Oh god." Arthur glared at Eames. "He wants you to do a pole dance, and then project it into Cobb's dreams."

"Ohhh, shit."

Half an hour later, Yusef was wearing a skimpy leotard and they had gotten the set ready for it. Yusef had endured all this with a grim expression on his face. 

Eames was giggling, holding hands with Arthur. "We're in for a treat," He whispered in Arthur's ear. "I've got the music ready, too." 

"You ready, Yusef?" Arthur called. 

"I have to be, don't I?" Yusef groaned. 

"Well, then, let's crank the music!" Eames laughed. 

Two bars into the song Arthur buried his head in his hands. "Are you serious?" 

Eames looked mildly offended. "What?"

"Is this... WAP?" 

"...Maybe?" 

"God, Eames, I love you, but I wish I could never have to endure this ever again."

"Shhh! It's starting!" Eames whisper-shouted. 

Yusef was suspiciously good at pole dancing, really giving it his all. He could manipulate his body in ways Arthur hadn't even known were possible, in ways that both horrified him and fascinated him. It was almost as if... he had done it before.

"Yusef, you are so busted!" Arthur called, when it had ended. Arthur and Eames had both applauded until their palms were sore. "You've done this before, haven't you?"

Yusef gave a little "hmmf". "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Course you don't." Eames grinned. "Can't wait to see what Cobb thinks of this one."

When Yusef had finally left to get changed into more normal clothes, Arthur and Eames were finally alone. They were both grinning. 

"That was... interesting, wasn't it?" Arthur asked. 

"Yes," Eames said. "Yes, it was."

They both stared at each other for a few seconds, happiness seeping through their faces. 

"Can I ask you something?" Arthur spoke, suddenly, his voice piercing the silence. 

"Sure," Eames smiled. 

"Do you regret dying for me?" 

The answer came quickly. "Of course not! I get to be with you, every single day. What more could I want?"

It was a few seconds before Eames spoke again. "Do you?"

"No," Arthur said. "I don't regret dying. Because, it took dying to realize how much I love you." He was crying now. "I realized that love finds it's way. If love is there, then it will blossom. Love is a stubborn bugger. Death is only a small hurdle."

Eames smiled, tears staining his perfect eyes. "I love you, darling."

"I love you too," Arthur smiled, and then he kissed him. 

As they both kissed, Arthur realized something. Death wasn't the end, not really. Death was only the beginning. 

Was it so hard to die? Arthur thought. Yes, it's hard to die. 

But having Eames by his side made it a hell of a lot easier. 

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's the end! Hope you enjoyed it. I had the time of my life writing this little story, and it would mean the world to me if you could leave some Kudos or Comment, if you liked it!  
> Thank you so much for reading this far, you have no idea how much it means to me.


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